This was not what Kurt Hummel had signed on for.

Yes, he wanted to experience a calming, Zen-like retreat.

Yes, he intended to try out yoga and meditation to soothe nerves and muscles stressed by work.

Yes, He expected some "quiet time," especially during meditation sessions.

But this?

No, he most certainly did not sign on for a weeklong retreat where four days would be spent — contractually — in complete silence.

What about my massage? That's the spa retreat I wanted, he thought.

Somewhere, his scheduling assistant was laughing.She should be counting down to her last day of employment, he swore to himself.

This is not going to last, he thought, his mind percolating as he joined 10 other spa guests as they rolled out yoga mats in complete silence.

Kurt positioned himself discreetly back, away from the front of the class and slightly off to one side of the studio. The instructor, a short, fit man, entered the room last.

Kurt's mind raced right to the snark that came so naturally to him.How is he going to teach a class if no one can talk?

The instructor walked to a corner stereo unit and inserted a CD. Within moments, the lightest sound of wind chimes and lutes could be heard, as if in the distance.

Kurt rolled his eyes.Oh lord.

But as he shifted his attention to the front of the room, the instructor was focused right on him, searing amber eyes aimed intently on his face. It was only then that Kurt noticed the dark curls framing chiseled features, and the body of trim muscle scarcely hidden under snug yoga pants and a tank top.

Oh lord.

The instructor shook his head slowly, then shut his eyes, raising his chin toward the ceiling while taking in deep, loud breaths. He raised his arms —defined, muscular arms—up and parallel above his head until his palms touched, then leaned deeply back from the waist.

Sun salutation.Kurt recognized this, and along with the class, followed the instructor's moves, breathing again then bending forward, dropping his arms toward his toes.

The instructor turned toward the side of the room, then shifted to plank position, inhaling deeply, lifting his chest.

As he dipped into the lunge, Kurt could see the rest of his body outlined through thin French terry and Lycra.

Oh lord.

He continued the salutation, to Downward Dog, his body shaped like an inverted 'V', arms outstretched as an extension of his shoulders, head to the floor, ass to the sky.

Oh, fuck.

Kurt broke concentration and fell to the floor, catching the instructor's concerned gaze. He mimed instructions to continue to plank position as he walked over to check on Kurt, placing his hand on his shoulder in a manner that suggested he was checking on his well-being as well as encouraging him to get on with it.

The instructor then moved to Downward Dog side by side with Kurt, encouraging him to start over. As Kurt settled into the pose, he stood up and took Kurt's right hand, moving it gently forward until it was correctly aligned with his left. He then stepped back, placed on hand on either side of Kurt's hips, and again adjusted his alignment until Kurt had settled into a correct line.

He finally helped Kurt shift to the plank, reaching under him to help lift his chest and seat his shoulder down until his body achieved the correct stretch.

With each touch, Kurt concentrated as much on stifling the shudder his body felt as he did on the correctly positioning his body on the mat.

The instructor then returned to the front of the room, gradually leading the small class through a series of basic yoga poses emphasizing strength, balance and spinal alignment:Tree, Warrior, Figure Four.Kurt had studied up to at least recognize the poses he was attempting.

About 40 minutes after they started, the instructor again led the class in a series of salutations and deep breathing, then sat on his mat, settling into a serene Lotus Position, easily pulling his feet into his nook of his hip flexors. He raised his eyes to a distant corner of the room, took a deep prolonged breath and raised his arms overhead, pulling his palms together then lowering them to chest height. He shut his eyes and rolled his head forward until his chin rested on his chest.

And he just shut down, showing little sign of movement beyond his breath for the next 30 minutes.

Kurt could help but sneak the occasional peek.

Oh gawd, he's limber.

Then he heard the breath, the deep exhales — one, two, three, four — signaling then end of the meditation.

The instructor slowly rose from the floor, walked to the stereo and turned off the CD.

As the rest of the class rose and rolled their mats, Kurt lingered on the floor, his legs stretched in front of him.

The instructor looked his way, tilted his head and raise his eyebrows as if to say "You OK?"

Kurt smiled, at least he thought he did, and gave him a brief nod.

The instructor returned the smile, then rolled his mat and left.

****

Kurt saw him again at breakfast the next morning, spooning fresh fruit into a bowl of yogurt. He was apparently ready for the work day, dressed again in trim-fit yoga pants with a zippered hoodie sweatshirt covering a t-shirt.

This guy must live in yoga pants, Kurt thought.And if he doesn't, he should.

Kurt was suddenly aware that he was staring, tray in hand, when the yoga instructor turned around and met his gaze. He gave Kurt an easy smile and a nod that he interpreted as agood morning. He raised his eyebrows and turned his head toward an empty table in invitation.

Or at least I'm choosing to interpret it as an invitation, Kurt thought, joining him at a small round for four. They ate in silence, something Kurt swore he wouldnever get used to, until the instructor picked up a copy of the day's class and activity schedule from the table top.

He read down the column, skimming with an extended index finger.Introduction to Yoga, 10 am. Instructor: B. Anderson.

He touched Kurt's hand in an unnecessary move to catch his already rapt attention, turned his head slightly to look him straight in the eye, then pointed to the class. He pointed, and nodded.

Kurt smiled. He would be there.

Then the instructor — B. Anderson, Kurt now figured — raised his finger.But wait, there's more. He ran his index finger further down the sheet.

Nature hike, 3pm.Meet at Lodge.

He again met Kurt's gaze.

Again with the eyebrows, raised in silent invitation.

OK, Kurt nodded.

He was met with a grin, and an enthusiastic nod, as the instructor bounced to his feet and collected his tray. He pointed to his watch. Kurt nodded again.

When he arrived at the yoga class, B. Anderson was already set up, the soft music of chimes and woodwinds, his yoga mat extended at a 90-degree angle toward the classroom. But this time, he had taken a moment to tape a poster board to the wall:Welcome to Yoga! I'm your instructor, Blaine.

Hmm. Blaine.

The class was much like the one from the day before, though at a somewhat more deliberate pace, and Blaine handed out pamphlets diagraming basic yoga poses. He walked the class during particularly long stretches, assisting students struggling to follow his lead.

He walked over to Kurt as they shifted to Warrior Pose, standing in front of him and striking a parallel pose for Kurt to mimic. It mostly served to distract him.

Blaine turned to inspect Kurt's results, biting back an erupting smile. He took his hand to Kurt's outstretched arm, lifting as he grazed his arm from elbow to wrist. Satisfied, he looked to Kurt's waist, then gently set one hand on each of Kurt's hips, turning him slightly.

He stepped back and smiled, then returned to his demonstration.

Calming breaths.

As they concluded the class, Blaine again led the group in a 30 minute meditation, this time demonstrating two relaxation poses: the Lotus Pose and Dead Man's Pose, basically stretching out on one's back and going completely limp.

Most of the class opted for the latter, but Kurt decided to try to join Blaine in a seated Lotus meditation. Kurt kept his eyes down, but never really shut them, glancing up from time to time at the front of the class.

And when the 30 minutes concluded, marked by the loud, pronounced breathing, Blaine raised his head and again gazed straight at Kurt.

Every time he does that I feel like I've been caught raiding the cookie jar.

Blaine smiled, pointed to his watch, a reminder of the afternoon hike, and packed his things to go. Kurt lingered a little, waiting for the studio to clear.

I'm just going to work off of an educated hunch here, he thought, not truly sure what he was doing.

Left alone and beginning to leave the room, Kurt paused, turning to face Blaine. He didn't smile, or mime words, or show any emotion at all. He simply made eye contact, and held it for a beat longer than should have been comfortable.

At that, Blaine leaned in, angling his face just so, and dusted Kurt's lips with his own.

Kurt's breath hitched, and Blaine rightly took that as a signal for more.

He pressed in firmly, parting his lips enough to lightly suck Kurt's lower lip into his mouth.

"Ooooh."

Kurt breathed the word as much as spoke it, and Blaine pulled back, shaking his head, and pulling his index finger to his mouth in a silent "hush".

He takes this silence thing seriously, Kurt thought.

And then Blaine was back, more urgent than before, firmly tonguing for access to Kurt's mouth.

Kurt dropped his yoga mat and cupped Blaine's face with as hands, pulling him closer, deepening their kiss. Blaine dropped his gym bag at the movement, and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, guiding him toward the wall. He pressed in with his chest, his arms, his legs, his mouth, and Kurt leaned back, giving Blaine unencumbered access.

He could feel Blaine's breathing quicken against his neck, as Blaine kissed a warm, wet circuit from Adam's Apple to clavicle.

Kurt bit into his own lip, the only way to silence his body's insistence on a verbal affirmation of pleasure.

He leaned his head forward, chasing Blaine's mouth, capturing it with his own.

Blaine groaned.

Kurt pulled back, smiled, and raised a finger to his lips, eliciting an eye roll. Blaine stepped back, covered his mouth with his hand. Embarrassment? Self-consciousness? Shame? A deep breath, and then an unmistakable smile and a light blush emerged from behind his hand.

Kurt kissed him lightly, then took Blaine's wrist and pointed to his watch.

Three o'clock.